The Origin
by SumaniDavings
Summary: A former Dart Monkey is really tired of the war and asks his old mentor if there is a way to stop the Bloons


**The Origin**

A lone monkey was climbing the mountains next to the growing city on the plains below. Only a weak breeze was his companion, and the mountains were eerily quiet. Nothing hinted at the fierce battle Stormhaven's monkeys had fought here against the Bloons not even a whole month ago. Now only rock and snow could be seen.

Finally the monkey reached the top, where a white-furred monkey was meditating in the lotus position. To a casual observer it looked like an ice-monkey, but the second glance revealed that the monkey was simply old. Ancient, in fact. He was also levitating.

The mountain climbing monkey seated himself at his side and watched down upon the plains. He breathed evenly, despite the exhausting hour-long climb. His eyes wandered.

There was the city with its wall, and then the wild lands. Even from here the monkey could see movement out in the plains. The Bloons never stopped. A small response team was heading out of the west gate to meet a new incursion, but it didn't look as if they'd even notice he was missing, since it wasn't a very dangerous looking group of Bloons heading for the city. The two ninja monkeys should be more than able to handle it, and they even had a bit of support.

The monkey sighed.

"What troubles you?" the gravelly voice of the ancient monkey interrupted his thoughts.

"I'm worried, master. When will this ever stop?"

They sat there in silence. It was a rhetorical question. Though, if anyone knew an answer to that, it was the old monkey. He had been there, at the very beginning, when the Bloons emerged and the monkeys had to make their stand – and lost.

"You know," the old one finally began, "there might be a way. Maybe. I'm not sure."

"What?"

"Yes. Deep in the wilds, there is the Origin. It is the place where the Bloons came from. When they emerged and the Hairless Creators where overrun and in their desperation turned to us. Of course it didn't safe them. If one was crazy enough to go to the Origin and find out how the Bloons come to be, it might be possible to stop them."

The younger monkey sat there with his mouth hanging wide open.

"Why haven't you ever said something? We could have defeated them, couldn't we?"

The ancient monkey grunted.

"Maybe. But in doing so we might spell our own doom."

"I don't understand, master."

"Because we need them to survive."

The younger monkey started to say something, stopped, started again, stopped a second time, and finally deflated.

"I can't say I follow your reasoning, master. All I know is that the Bloons are what is keeping us from having a peaceful live."

The white monkey scratched his nose.

"Do you know the old stories? Of the time before the Beginning?"

"No, I've never heard them."

"That's because they don't exist. Why do you think we only tell stories since the Beginning?"

"Isn't that… because it was the Beginning? What could there be to talk about before?"

"Lots of things. How we lived with the Hairless Creators, at least. But still there are no stories. We didn't tell stories back then because we couldn't. We were mere animals."

"We were what?"

"Animals. They are like birds, only there are more kinds. The Bloons killed most of them, so it's not surprising you don't know them. We didn't have self-conscience. We didn't have say about our fate. The Hairless Creators were the ones who had all the power. Of course they used that power to gain more power and make their easy lives even easier, and even then they didn't stop. So in the end…"

"…they created the Bloons?"

"Yes. And shortly after that they created us. Or maybe it's better to say: They elevated us."

"Okay, fine. You were there, so I assume you know what you are talking about. But how does that lead you to ' _we are doomed without the Bloons_ '?"

"I was getting to that. Do you have an inkling how they made us what we are?"

The brown monkey shook his head.

"They used the very substance they had created the Bloons to make for them."

Incomprehension was still plastered over the younger monkey's face. The white one pointed at his amulet, which was made from a clear blue substance.

"Bloonstones…," the brown furred monkey whispered.

"It's what gives us our intelligence, resilience and powers. Without it we are nothing. We need the Bloons because they are the only way to get it. Destroy the source of the Bloons and soon every monkey in the world will fight against his brothers and sisters for a speck of Bloonstone. Do you think any of the cities would quietly use what reserves they had and accept their fate?"

The young monkey thought about the coldly executed Bloon raids by their neighbors. Stormhaven was under attack every now and then, and even among the monkeys of the peaceful town were some that demanded retribution. They had some of the facilities necessary to enable exactly this, but they were for scientific purposes only.

Just like other cities they found it their primary concern to know how the Bloons worked and how they could be destroyed, distracted and diverted. The only reason there was a city here was because of cunning monkey engineers that had found a way to stop the Bloons from advancing into the city compound.

The others had gone further. They used the Bloons for something that was a mix of friendly competition and thoughtless raid. For now, at least, Stormhaven wouldn't join the madness. Bloons shouldn't be used like that. If they were willing to employ Bloons for the odd chance of getting some money, what would they do to get Bloonstones?

The sudden image of sabotaged walls and Bloons swarming through the city made him feel sick.

"Right now there is a shaky balance between us and them," the white monkey interrupted his thoughts as if the young one had spoken out loud. "It would be best not to destroy it."

"I see." The cycle would continue. They would destroy the Bloons and when there was time they would scrounge some Bloonstones from the remains. When none got through.

An alarm sounded and the young monkey squinted. Blue and red shapes where visible at the horizon.

"Here we go again," he sighed. The white monkey simply looked at him. Suddenly the posture of the younger monkey straightened. He took out his battle suit and a cocky grin was now plastered on his face.

Once, long ago, he had been a simple Dart Monkey, defending his home from the endless stream of Bloons, until Stormhaven found him. The old monkey had become his friend, his mentor, and his trainer, and now he was able to use amounts of Bloonstone that made other monkeys pale, which led to his absurd speed that couldn't even be matched by a dartling gun. He was also feeling like there was something wrong with his eyes lately. He would have to wait to see if that was bad or good. They called him "Supermonkey" and looked up to him. They depended on him when things got rough.

It was his duty to be the immovable rock in the currents of the unstoppable Bloon forces. But sometimes… sometimes even he needed a shoulder to cry on. With a deep breath he jumped and it looked as if he flew down the mountains, and towards the incoming Bloon horde.

* * *

 _I got this idea while playing Bloons Monkey City, when I realized that the monkeys were using the Bloons to attack each other. I first thought, maybe they destroyed their own civilization, but than I remembered that there are too many similarities to our own. So here we go again: Humans dropped the ball._


End file.
